


Weak as Water

by spikesgirl58



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:04:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four months Illya had been gone and Napoleon didn’t have a clue as to how long THRUSH had kept Illya under their tender ministrations.    He had no idea if they would be delivering Illya well and whole or a broken shell of an agent.  Either way, Napoleon didn’t care.  Just as long as he had his partner back, he didn’t care.  If Illya was permanently damaged or mentally broken, Napoleon would take care of him.   Partners to the end, no matter what and Napoleon intended to keep that promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weak as Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [svetlanacat4](https://archiveofourown.org/users/svetlanacat4/gifts).



Napoleon checked his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes.  The weather was getting increasingly worse and he half expected his communicator to chirp and be told Illya’s plane had been diverted.

He turned back from the window and walked to a pair of agents.  Sitting between them was a man in shackles and manacles.  The waiting room had been cleared and UNCLE agents stood guard at every turn.  For every one of them, Napoleon was certain THRUSH had agents watching them.

“You’re a nervous man, Mr. Solo.”  Vincent Lopez’s eyes narrowed as he watched his captor, flinching as Napoleon suddenly reached into his jacket.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Lopez.  That is providing your friends uphold their end of the bargain and return my partner to me.”  Napoleon still couldn’t believe that Waverly had agreed to this exchange.

“THRUSH is unreliable, even to its own.  It’s quite possible that this was merely a ruse.”

“You’d better hope not for the sake of your own hide.”

“For what that is worth now that UNCLE has had its way with me.”

“Shut up,” one of his escorts growled and Lopez fell silent.

Napoleon returned to his vigil at the window.  Four months ago, Illya had left on a routine courier mission.  It turned out to be anything but.  At first, there were minimal but fairly regular communications from him and then nothing.   THRUSH maintained they didn’t have him and knew nothing of his whereabouts.  UNCLE searched.  Napoleon searched.  He’d combed every stop that Illya had made, looked under every leaf and rock for a clue.

A couple of their South American UNCLE agents captured Lopez and suddenly THRUSH was very cooperative.  So cooperative that they were willing to ‘find’ the missing UNCLE agent and return him to UNCLE.

Four months Illya had been gone and Napoleon didn’t have a clue as to how long THRUSH had kept Illya under their tender ministrations.    He had no idea if they would be delivering Illya well and whole or a broken shell of an agent.  Either way, Napoleon didn’t care.  Just as long as he had his partner back, he didn’t care.  If Illya was permanently damaged or mentally broken, Napoleon would take care of him.   Partners to the end, no matter what and Napoleon intended to keep that promise.

A plane landed and began to taxi to the gate.  Napoleon stiffened at the sight of the THRUSH emblem embossed on its side.

“They’re here.  Get him ready,” Napoleon said over his shoulder.

Drawing a deep breath, Napoleon waited for the plane to come to a stop and its engines to fall silent.  There was movement as figures, unclear but visible through the windows, began to move.

Lopez was brought forward and sneered at Napoleon.  “You UNCLE agents are so weak.  You wear your hearts on your sleeves.”

“At least we have hearts,” Napoleon murmured as the shackles were being removed.  “Now move.”   He gave the man a push forward just as the first people climbed from the plane.  They were heavily armed but no weapons were pointed at Napoleon.

The familiarity of a figure drew Napoleon’s attention.  He couldn’t see the man’s face, it was hidden by a sack, but it was Illya all right.  He stumbled down the narrow ramp stairs, but never totally lost his balance, despite his arms being bound behind him.

Finally they drew face to face and the sack was pulled from Illya’s head.  The man blinked painfully, even in this dim light.  Napoleon drew a relieved breath.  With the exception of a heavy beard and looking both thin and exhausted, Illya seemed okay.  They unbound Illya’s arms and he flexed them slowly, grimacing with the action.  

He looked around as if puzzled at first as to where they were and then he saw Napoleon and half lifted a hand in greeting.

Napoleon undid the manacles and gave Lopez another encouraging push towards his people.  He looked back.  “Weak as water,” he muttered as he walked away.

“Don’t hurry back,” but Napoleon dismissed him, all his attention on Illya.  Within four steps, Illya was back with UNCLE and at Napoleon’s side.  “You are a sight for sore eyes, partner.”

“Thank you.  It’s good to be home.”  Illya’s voice was raspy as if he was getting over a cold.

They turned to leave and a flurry of movement caught Napoleon.  He felt someone grab his weapon and there was the explosion of gunfire in his ear.   When it was over, Lopez was lying on the tarmac.

“What happened?” Napoleon looked at his agents, all standing close, their weapons drawn.

“He tried to shoot you.  Illya got him first.”  The Section Three spoke with obvious pride.

Slowly, Napoleon approached the fallen man and pushed him over onto his back.  Pain-narrowed eyes met his.  “What the hell were you trying to pull, Lopez?”

He coughed.  “You’re weak.  I’m strong,” he whispered.  “This is better than dying at the hands of my own people.  Now I will be remembered… as… a… hero.”  The head lolled and Napoleon stood.

Napoleon stood and shook his head.   “There’s nothing good about a dead hero, Lopez and there’s nothing brave about suicide.”  He walked back to Illya and smiled.  “Come on, partner.  Let’s go home.”  He gave Illya’s beard a playful tug.  “And maybe find you a barber.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
